


It Started Out With A Kiss

by Merkey666



Series: High School Au [7]
Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Accidental Kissing, Alternate Universe - High School, Christmas Time, Copious amounts of alcohol - Freeform, Eggnog, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Late Night Conversations, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Nasty, Sleepovers, is - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 13:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13101240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merkey666/pseuds/Merkey666
Summary: Spencer is staying with Dallon for a few days over winter break due to his parents being out of town. Things spiral pretty quickly.





	It Started Out With A Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> It Started Out With A Kiss AKA I Hate Brallon So Much I Made This Instead
> 
> Anyway Day 3 is upon us so here we go:  
> This was also mostly written over a year ago and not all that Christmassy, but who even gives a shit 
> 
> Please let me know what you think!
> 
> (Also the intro paragraph is so cringy I can't even read it)

The turning point of a friendship to something more should be something dramatic, something emotional. A moment where nothing but the other person matters. A moment of bliss and uncertainty. It should be filled with clarity and the chill wind of truth. It should shake your very bones and rattle your soul so sharply, you can’t feel anything but your friend. It should be balanced on the scales of life so precariously that one wrong move could send you both plummeting down to square one. Spencer and Dallon’s friendship went absolutely nothing like this. 

~

Spencer burped loudly and burst out laughing. Dallon watched the chaos from a few feet away, the morning slowly fading from his worries. Playfully, he aimed to smack Spencer, but missed horribly and whacked a water bottle off his bedside table. Spencer erupted into more hoarse laughter, choking on his own intoxicated spit. The other boy cupped his uncomfortably moist hand over his friends’ mouth to quiet him. Dallon wanted to be left alone with Spencer, but the middle of the night knew no such privacy, his mom just down the hall. He watched waited for a light to turn on in the hall, meanwhile Spencer looked up with undoubtedly begging eyes, that no one had time to see. It wasn’t the alcohol keeping him from looking down and smiling at the glitter in his eyes, you know how it goes. 

“Oh, it’s just a little crush.” And by now Dallon couldn’t even look him in the eyes without blushing. Getting smashed with him seemed like an inherently poor decision from anyone’s eyes. 

It was nearing three a.m. quicker than either of them liked, but with their blood alcohol level still rising, only unfinished work could be bothered to cry out. Lazy days lay ahead. 

Dallon reached for the bottle of Amaretto, and promptly knocked it onto the floor. The stain reached out for him, and his reaction came too late. Letting out a quiet yelp, he dove to keep it from blanketing the carpet in its sticky juices. By landing on top of the bottle, he only succeeded in spilling more of it. Adding to the mayhem, he foot bashed Spencer in the face. Dallon was sure that hurt, but didn’t bother with it.

Spencer found it no short of hilarious and curled up into a ball, clutching his gut and snorting madly. He couldn’t feel most of his body anyway. 

Dallon kicked him again for good measure, before placing the bottle as far away as possible. He was well aware when he invited Spencer to spend the week with him that there would be alcohol involved, he just didn’t think that much alcohol would be involved. Nearly three bottles later, alcohol poisoning was the next thing they’d be cracking open. 

“Ew, that puddle looks like a cum stain,” Spencer giggled. Dallon automatically rolled his eyes, thinking he was probably right. He thought, all things considered, that wouldn't be the worst assumption his parents could make about the night. Then they would smell the almonds and find their bottles missing and it wouldn’t be a hard stretch for them. 

Spencer elbowed him and pointed dumbly at the mark on the carpet. “They might think we fucked.”

Dallon toppled over onto the bed and attempted to roll his eyes again and failed miserably. Again, he thought that might not be the worst option. No, wait… yes, that was probably just about the worst thing they could assume. He propped his feet up on the headrest and tucked his arm behind his head, staring up at the fuzzy ceiling. 

Spencer’s words were fading before he even said them. “They know you’re a friend of mine. We haven’t even kissed… Why would they think we fucked?” 

Dallon looked at him, confused. “Yup.” He popped the p, quiet and monotonous. The two were on a whole new level of wasted, and seconds later couldn’t bother to bring up how Dallon didn’t even answer his already suspicious question. 

Deep down, Spencer had a goal. A blurry and somewhat questionable goal, but a goal nonetheless. The most he could do was try his best to keep it in his frame of mind and not forget about it. All he had to do was tell him. In the midst of his attempting to retain the bitter trail of his thoughts, he stared at Dallon’s lips like nothing else in the world interested him more. He decided to shoot his shot. 

“I bet lots of our friends have kissed,” he stated. Dallon could take a hint plenty well, but there was still that voice in his head that said, ‘Nah. It’s just a crush. He’s not really saying that.’ So he looked down at him and raised his eyebrows. Sort of. 

Spencer giggled at the failed expression and bit his lip.

Dallon looked away to hide his blush. It was plenty dark aside from the Christmas lights that lined his window frame from the outside and reflected rainbows against the fresh snow. He hadn’t had the nerve to light a candle because he worried he’d torch the house accidentally in his drunken stupor, unlikely as that may have been.

Spencer clarified, “under mistletoe. You get what I’m saying? Not, like,-“

“Oh.” There was a beat of awkward silence. “Yeah, I-uh-I knew that.” There was another beat of quiet and confusion. 

“Okay, then. Say I believe you. Who?” he challenged. 

Spencer knew instantly who had definitely kissed at least once, but it took him a few tries to get all of his words out correctly. He eventually stuttered out a pitiful, “‘Trick and Petey.” Dallon threw his head back in silent laughter. 

“Is that it?” 

Spencer grumbled impatiently to himself about ‘ruined Christmases’ or something along those lines. His buzzed brain was trying to come up with an answer as to make it look as though he wasn’t just looking for a reason to kiss him. In that internal chaos, Dallon stared at him. It was just like math class, only better. No shitty friends could cackle under their breaths’ when they noticed him daydreaming. They were all so bad at keeping secrets, it was a miracle he’d made it to Christmas. Especially after Brendon found out. He’d been sure that was the end.

“Fine,” Spencer hollered. “How’s about Ryan and Brepkin? Burp kin. Burp napkin.” Spencer fell over cackling again. Behind his slightly muffled laughter, Dallon mumbled something along the defiant lines of ‘Doubt it’, which Spencer took apparent offense to. 

“So?”

Dallon shrugged back at Spencer, who sat up, happy to be back in his spot light again. The two tired, drunk, and possibly horny boys stared at each other for a good couple of minutes. Neither moved, neither turned their heavy gazes away. Spencer took that opportunity by the throat. (Metaphorically, of course.)

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing that the stain will dry. We wouldn’t want anyone thinking we, you know, had sex.”

“You’d get sent home so fast, dude,” Dallon replied. 

Spencer lolled his head towards Dallon and stared at him. “And do what? My parents are in Costa-fucking-Rica. It’s a shock they decided to come back at all, honestly.” He laid the back of his hand upon his forehead and signed dramatically. “Oh, woe is me. They shan’t love me, I’m alone! Blah, blah… SUCH SWEET SORROW!” 

Dallon buried his face in his hands, trying to hide his chuckles. “Those aren’t even the words! You’re an idiot.” Dallon was too lost to even hear himself gushing over Spencer. 

“Aw, don’t say that. You love me, don’t you Dallon?”

Dallon choked on nothing and fought briefly with himself on whether to throw up on the spot. He seriously thought he was going to for a moment there. 

“Uh… y-yes, of course,” he stuttered out. It wasn’t dark enough for Spencer to casually ignore the blush resting on Dallon’s cheeks, and he would’ve given the world to hear him say it just one more time. 

“It’s a Christmas miracle!” He laughed it off. Or, he tried. Dallon just kept staring at him like he hung the stars in the sky, pale and blushing all at once, lost in the euphoria of getting that off of his chest. “Wanna see one more?” Spencer asked. 

Dallon’s heartbeat a little faster in his chest. 

“Not if it’s motherfucking eggnog-“ Spencer reached up and wrapped his hand around the back of Dallon’s neck and pulled him down with the strength of months of unrequited feelings pent up. Dallon surged forward and grabbed at him. Teeth clashed as their lips locked together so tightly, they were sure to be bruised in the morning. Spencer dug his nails into the back of Dallon’s neck. Dallon furled and unfurled his toes. The two of them got into a rhythm. 

With one final yank, Spencer pulled him down off the bed. Dallon clambered over him, pulling his shirt up and over his head, trying not to knock anything else over in the process. Spencer pulled down on him harder and harder, until he was able to feel Dallon’s hip bones pressing into his. He pulled some hair out of his mouth, keeping the heat dialed up. Dallon kissed back feverishly, gasping for air whenever he could get time in. No longer concerned about making noise, Dallon let out one, spine tinglingly long whine and bit Spencer’s lip in the process. 

All Spencer could muster was one quiet “Fuck,” before flipping Dallon over and anchoring his own lips onto his neck. His hips pressed down on Dallon’s, every nerve in his body on fire with pleasure, not just physically, but also the accumulation of emotional frustration. It all resulted in the rush to feel as much as they could of each other and get that satisfaction they’d yearned for for so long. Every tip of the head that Spencer made as he worked Dallon’s neck raw resulted in Dallon throwing his head back, vision spinning. The most he could do was rake his nails up and down his back and breathe loudly through his mouth, into his ear. 

Spencer dragged his teeth along his jawline, trailing spit over his face before reconnecting their lips. Their hands dragged over each other’s sweaty bodies, pushing down when the other person made noise. They never got farther than taking Dallon’s shirt off, not only due to not being coordinated enough, but because both seemed to infatuated with the way their lips felt when pressed against each other’s. Spencer’s hand trailed down Dallon’s stomach and lingered at his belt buckle for a moment, but came back up to cradle his face. He much rather would’ve simply held him than push it. 

It was for the best that they held off until sober, which felt like an eternity away at the time. When the sun finally did rise, and the two were awoken by the ungodly sunshine outside, there was nothing to be said. Both knew the other knew that they both knew, which resulted in a lot of staring contests in the early morning light. Dallon began to notice there were some flecks of silver in the blues of his eyes that he spent so much of his time staring into. (Always in secret, of course.) Maybe Spencer even noticed Dallon had some grey in those deep, ocean blue eyes. 

Later, standing upon two wobbly legs, there was emotional silence. Neither were quite sure what they were anymore, other than desperately needy for each other’s company. There was much less talking that afternoon, whether it was from the awkwardness or the hangover was irrelevant. The rest of the household had a busy Saturday, keeping the two in the quiet darkness of Dallon’s room until the late afternoon. While neither wanted to look Dallon’s mom in the eyes and tell her they’d gotten some good sleep, it did leave the two stuck together with nothing to say. 

The day was spent with the blinds drawn and Dallon crumpled up on Spencer’s lap, drinking coffee and water, and everything else he could just to get the alcohol out of his system. One discovery came of the afternoon, and it was that you could only watch so many Hallmark films before your eyes melt out of their sockets. The only way it was bearable after about five of them was with the volume turned off completely and the tv also turned off and by not watching them at all. It was a rough couple of hours. 

“Dal?” Spencer asked, rubbing his temples gently. “I think I’m gonna go home tonight. Just tonight. I miss my own bed, you know?” Ouch. 

Dallon showed no sign of hurt when he said, “Sure.”

When Spencer went home later that day, he said not one word, but kissed him on the cheek before sprinting to his car. From where Dallon stood in his driveway, he could see a dark purple bite mark on Spencer’s neck from the night he barely remembered. It was a good memory for Dallon, one that he was anxious to relive. As if that’ll happen, he thought to himself. He couldn’t count the things that he’d’ve liked to say on his hands, there were too many of them.

He low-key wished Spencer would’ve had the nerve he lacked to ask some of the questions, but even then, he didn’t have any answers. 

Dallon then proceeded to make one of the best decisions of his life, and not text Brendon about his experience. He had better people, people he knew too much of to take his problems anywhere else.

It was a honor for Dallon to be allowed in the girls’ circle of gossip and the other terrible things they talked about, but it was well earned. There were things they told everyone, there were some things they told no one, and Dallon tended to know both. There were some certain things they didn’t just tell anyone, but Dallon was allowed in on everything. He knew Lindsey’s food-poisoning hadn’t really been that, he knew about that time the girls snuck vodka on the ninth grade camping trip and played strip poker, and he knew Brendon’s girlfriend was gay. Dallon wasn’t go to Brendon, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to go to Pete to complain. 

He sat himself down on his bed, after a long, cold shower, and began to think. As if on repeat, his mind drifted automatically back to Spencer, and he really didn’t want to think about Spencer after he’d just taken a shower. Keeping it all in wouldn’t do any good either, so he twisted the lock on his door, and pulled out his phone. He went over his thought patterns again, reassuring himself this would be an okay thing to do. He was used to hearing about girl problems, so why couldn’t it be his turn to complain? Yes, Dallon thought, this would be okay. They would listen, and he would feel better afterwards. 

The Purest Word Of God: hey ladies

Eggan: hello father

Hayl Satan: what is up my dude

The b00b: uh oh is there trouble in heaven

The Purest Word Of God: idk. its kind of. secret. which means no boys. none of them

The b00b: do you see any other boys on this chat?

Hayl Satan: Don’t mean to be sudden or anything buT DOES THIS MEAN YOU’VE GOT A CRUSH

Eggan: NOT EVEN SPENCER?? HE’S LIKE. YOUR BEST FRIEND

The Purest Word Of God: especially him

The b00b: OH MY GOD WHAT HAPPENED 

Dallon took a deep breath and shut his eyes as he typed out a rough estimate of what happened the previous night. He could picture it all in his mind, but putting it into words wasn’t his thing. He tried his best, considering it was one of the most intoxicated nights of his life, but he tried. How could he relay the subtleness of Spencer’s chapped lips he could feel just below his jaw line? How Spencer’s mouth felt just a little warmer than his, and how he seemed to feel like there should be a ballad playing when the only sounds that were audible were quiet moans and the shake of clothing against bare skin. This not only didn’t work because it put images of Spencer in his mind that were “distracting”, but also succeeded in helping Dallon misspell every word in his text. He read over his paragraph of mistakes-after it was sent-and even noticed a few numbers instead of words. 

The b00b: that made. no sense but okay

Dallon retyped out the whole thing after the girls gave him enough shit for it, and this time around he got a little too into it. All he wanted was for them to get the gist of why he was so distraught, but apparently he went a little overboard. 

Hayl Satan: cannot believe Dallon James Weekes just wrote an erotica 

The b00b: I came

Half a second later…

This message has been removed.

Hayl Satan: thanks, lindsay

Eggan: allow me to reiterate- dal n spence got S T E A M Y and now dadlon is high-key conflicted over his feelings. he’s officially one of us now

Hayl Satan: oh boy, oh boy that’s tough, man. kiss him again. see what happens.

Eggan: or you could. you know. talk

The Purest Word Of God: have you tried to talk to spencer

The b00b: stab him

The Purest Word Of God: no

Hayl Satan: yeah, i wouldn’t recommend that

Eggan: send him a text about how you’re ‘in love with him and oh life is so hard, brendon, why does this happen to me’ and then be like ‘oops wrong person :/‘

The b00b: yeah guys its hard enough talking to brendon and spencer is basically what would happen if you take out the drama hype and replace it with an addiction to acid

The Purest Word Of God: that’s. surprisingly accurate

Hayl Satan: [chanting] FUCK HIM FUCK HIM FUCK HIM FUCK HIM FUCK HIM

The Purest Word Of God: i THINK THAT IS A VERY BAD IDEA

Hayl Satan: WHY

Eggan: I’M GONNA FORCE YOU TWO TO TALK AT SCHOOL TOMORROW

Hayl Satan: WE DONT HAVE SCHOOL TOMORROW MEAGAN

The b00b: TOO LATE I ALREADY ASKED SPENCER OVER AND DALLON YOU’RE COMING TOO

The Purest Word Of God: IM NOT SITTING IN A ROOM WATCHING MEAN GIRLS WITH FIFTY MEAN GIRLS AND A BOY I DONT EVEN KNOW IF I LIKE

Eggan: IF YOU MADE OUT WITH HIM WHILE YOU WERE DRUNK YOU LIKE HIM 

Hayl Satan: your subconscious does want it wants- if it told you to kiss him, you like him

The Purest Word Of God: why did i think this was a good idea

The b00b: do you want me to get brendon involved

The Purest Word Of God: PLEASE NO

The b00b: that’s what i fuckign thought, bitch

Dallon shut his phone off and growled to himself. He sure hoped he gave better advice than the girls gave him, otherwise he was in need of some space from Brendon. He laid back on his bed and sighed. His eyes drooped shut and his heart was nearly slow enough for him to drift off, when he smelled the Amaretto wafting from his rug. He jump-started and bolted out of bed, smacking into his locked door. Cursing to himself, and bumbling into everything, he slid down the hardwood floors of the main hallway. He crashed into the supply closet, grabbed cleaning supplies, and mentally harassed himself all the way back into his room. 

After a good thirty minutes of his life was wasted, smearing Windex into his carpet and spraying Febreze everywhere, his phone rang, loud and clear through his room. He paused, taking a deep and angry breath. In desperation, Dallon stripped his hands of the large yellow gloves he’d clothed them with and made a mad dash for his mobile.

“Hello?” he asked, wiping his nose, which had been running from all the cleaning solvents that had gotten everywhere.

“Are you coming or not, Dal? Everyone’s here. By everyone, I mean Spencer,” Lindsey sighed though the phone. 

“Lindsey, I really-“

“Shhhhhhhhh, my boy. Just get over here and you’ll be happy you did. Please?” she asked. Dallon really wished he could resist the urge to say yes to her, but he really couldn’t. She’d been so nice to him, after all.

“Alright fine. Just let me finish scrubbing the liquor out of my carpet and I’ll be there,” he sniffled.

“Are… Are you crying, Dal?” Lindsey asked, sounding more than a little shocked.

“No, it’s just the crap that got everywhere. Gotta go. I’ll be there. I promise.” And Dallon threw his phone back across the room, hanging up abruptly. 

~

“Welcome to casa Ballato!” Lindsey laughed, as she helped Dallon with his coat. It was a dismal afternoon, and Dallon was really agreeing with the weather. He related to it pretty well.

“Hey, guys,” he smiled shyly as his eyes fell on Spencer, who was warmly smiling. So the girls haven’t told him yet, Dallon thought miserably. That left more work for him, since Spencer was definitely going to put up a fight. He plopped down on the tan couch casually, attempting to keep an air of normal-ness to the room, which evidently failed. Suddenly, much to both the boys’ dismay, Hayley immediately grabbed her coat and put it on.

“Hey, guys, I’m just headed to the corner store for some chips. Anyone need anything?” she asked, pulling her vibrant orange hair into a bun. 

“Yeah, I need some girl stuff. I’ll just come with,” Lindsey replied, pulling on some boots that were clearly queued up and ready to go. 

“Shit, me too,” Meagan piped up, snatching up a scarf and making a b-line for the door. Dallon opened his mouth to object, but was cut off by quick and quirky goodbye’s, and the two were alone seconds later. 

“They forgot their phones. They’ll be back soon,” Spencer said with such dullness in his voice, it was shocking it didn’t put Dallon right to sleep on the spot. Dallon’s internal pretty casual mode switched off and he diverted to the constant internal screaming mode. 

Unsurprisingly, the girls didn’t come back right away. Dallon and Spencer waited, in cold, hard silence for five, ten, fifteen minutes, but no one showed. It wasn't awkward because they were in a new house with nothing to do, it was awkward because they were in a new house with nothing to do, together. Neither wanted to be in that situation, but only Dallon knew it was for the best. He couldn’t just keep things bottled up, because eventually he ran out of space in the bottle, unlike Spencer who just got a bigger bottle. 

“Aw, shit. This was set up, wasn’t it?” Spencer sighed after about twenty minutes of silence. “Are you behind this? I feel like you’re behind this.”

“Yes, okay, maybe I am. Partially,” Dallon spluttered. He expected some dramatized reaction from Spencer, who instead just sat there and waited. “Aren’t you going to yell at me?” Dallon asked, worriedly.

“I know you better than that. If I yell at you, things will only get worse. Just let it out, and we’ll go from there,” Spencer replied, strangely calm. Anyone other than Dallon could’ve seen the screaming behind his eyes, but Dallon just so happened to be the only other person in the room and was more oblivious than a rock. Dallon smiled weakly at his friend who did not return the gesture. His ransacked mind scrambled for something to say, as he hadn’t expected to have to say something so quickly. He opened his mouth and let out a string of “um”s and “well”s. Spencer sat back against the cushions and watched him in amusement. 

“I’m not even going to mention the whole getting drunk thing, which was totally your fault, by the way. I’m just going to ask- do you like me?” Dallon asked, when finally his brain decided to cooperate. “My God, that sounded so stupid, I swear I’m not a third grader, I-“

“Yes.” 

“What?”

“Yeah, I do.” Spencer sounded pretty sure, Dallon reasoned. 

“In what way?”

“I dunno.”

“Okay, well, that doesn't really help me very much,” Dallon grumbled. Spencer looked away, while Dallon resorted to unravelling the hem of his shirt. It’s shit anyway, he thought to himself, knowing anything he said internally was just a diversion from what he knew he was eventually going to say. He was never the type for confessions, as ironic as that was. 

“I like you,” Dallon whispered. He internally smacked himself for how dumb he thought he sounded. Spencer didn’t think he sounded stupid at all. 

“In what way?”

“I dunno.”

Spencer didn’t need Dallon to say another word. He shot forward and connected their lips. Dallon gripped the couch cushions tightly, using every ounce of strength not to grab hold of Spencer. Both kept their hands to themselves, as slowly as they kissed, which was weird enough as it was. It occurred to them at the same time that they were both completely sober and still willingly doing this, which made for a very easy segue into panic mode.

“Is this who I am?”

“What am I doing?”

And then, together, “Oh.”

For a second, neither spoke nor moved. They stayed perfectly stoic, their knees still touching from Spencer scooting forward. Dallon gulped, trying to think about anything other than how immensely he’d enjoyed that. Spencer clammed up almost instantly, fiddling with his hands on his lap and looking away before the blush caught up with him. 

“I don’t wanna sound cheesy, but maybe we should just talk this through…” Dallon whispered lightly, knowing Spencer was close enough to feel his breath if he spoke to loudly. 

“You are a walking cliche, Dallon Weekes,” Spencer laughed nervously. Dallon agreed immensely, yet knowing if he started another conversation, they’d never get back around to this one. He conjured up some of Brendon’s courage and crashed through his insecurities. 

“What if I said I liked it when you kiss me?” Dallon asked, initiating the conversation.

“I’d probably kiss you.”

“Probably?”

“I mean, if I died and you still liked it, them I probably wouldn’t because I’d be fucking dead, Dallon.”

“Alright, well, enjoy making out with your million gigabytes of porn, then.”

“I can’t date porn.”

“Oh.” Dallon sat pin straight, once again blushing and paling simultaneously. “Well, would you want to, you know-“

“Date?” Spencer cut in. 

Dallon nodded and slowly reached his long fingers forward until he felt the tips of Spencer’s fingers lace with his own. That was when the blush caught up with Spencer. He looked up at Dallon calmly, trying to keep himself from grinning. He could see the sparkle in Dallon’s eyes, even though Dallon was looking at their entwined hands. That glitter wasn’t there so often, only at the really good parts in his life. Spencer couldn’t remember where he’d seen it before, but he knew it was familiar. 

“Yeah…” Dallon whispered.

“I think that would be a good idea,” Spencer mumbled. Dallon cracked a wide smile and looked up.

“Just good, not great?” Dallon joked.

“Shut your fuck up, Dallon. Since I don’t know when the three musketeers will return from their trip to tampon land, let’s see if we can hack the Xbox account. I bet I can still beat you at Halo.”

“You wish.”

~

Lindsey, tampons in hand, burst through the front door, screaming.

“NO FUCKING ON MY GODDAMN COUCH!” she bellowed. Meagan and Hayley fumbled to a badly timed halt behind her, only minimally domino-ing. Lindsey didn’t move a muscle as they collided with her. She turned around ever so slowly, hands cupped over her mouth, smiling broadly.

“It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Meagan whispered. Hayley pushed between the two to see what caused the ruckus, and dropped to her knees. Meagan watched her collapse on the ground, clutching her heart and panting.

“It’s killed me…” she groaned. Meagan agreed. 

Passed out on the same tan couch, the two boys were tangled up, Xbox controllers on the floor, and half a bag of popcorn spread across the hardwood floors. But the two were, in fact, asleep. Dallon’s cheek was pressed into Spencer’s chest, where he was drooling ever so slightly in his sleep. Spencer had an arm loosely around him, and that simple scene was enough to promise a happy ending. 

“Quick, get me a blanket!” Lindsey whispered, setting down her things lightly. Meagan sprinted down the hall and returned with a woolen blanket. Hayley ran into the kitchen to grab some snacks. Playing cupid was tiring. 

“Hey, Lindsey?” Hayley whisper shouted. Lindsey stepped into her line of sight and saw her standing over the trash can. Hayley reached down and picked up a carton of… something. She turned back to Lindsey.

“Why is there a fun carton of eggnog in the trash?”

“BECAUSE IT’S FUCKING DISGUSTING-“ screeched Dallon from the living room. He settled back down on Spencer’s chest, smiling to himself. It had been a really, really weird day for him. His mom probably didn’t know where he was, that’s fine. He had his phone. She also didn’t know he had a boyfriend now, that could wait. He hunkered back down and vaguely processed his surroundings, such as the movie put on the tv. He was somewhat aware he made an hateful comment about Hallmark movies, but he was suddenly overcome with fatigue that he couldn’t really be sure. 

Spencer rubbed his back gently and lulled him off to a half awake, half asleep semi-lucid dreaming catastrophe. He wasn’t honestly aware time had passed until he came to, putting his jacket on, ushered out of the house by Spencer. Lindsey winked at him but he didn’t have the mental capacity to process that.

“What’s-“ he rubbed his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“I’m gonna drive you home. I think you’re a little tired. It’s way past your bedtime, Dallon. But I’ll still read you a bedtime story, if you want,” he joked. Dallon flipped him off and piled into the freezing car. Spencer cranked up the heat and turned on the butt-warmers to full blast. Most of the drive went well, quiet Christmas music playing and warm air blowing in their faces. Up until Dallon finally got hold on his whirling mind and mustered up the bravery to ask,

“Are we dating now? Is that a thing? Are we a thing?” 

“I mean… I guess? That’s what normal people would probably call this. I like you, you like me, we’re kissing-“

“-It sounds way cooler if you say ‘snogging’-“

“Whatever. And I think it’s going to stay like this for a while. That qualifies as a relationship, I think. That’s what normies would say.”

“Don’t you ever fucking say normies ever again.”

“You get what I mean,” Spencer’s tone was soft.

“Yeah.” Spencer wasn’t mistaken in thinking he heard a smile in Dallon’s voice. 

“Aw, Dallon. You’re officially my BITCH!”

“No, what the fuck, Spencer.”

“I know. Just kidding. Mind if I spend the night?” he asked, pulling into Dallon’s driveway. Dallon smiled to himself, wondering just how in the hell he’d ever get away with dating his best friend. Best to take it my ear, he decided, nodding and leading Spencer into his warm house. It smelled overwhelmingly of burnt cookies, giving the two of them an excuse to stay in Dallon’s room and lay down, watching the rainbow lights outside. 

Dallon put on some sweats and stretched out on his bed, ready to get to sleep. Spencer laid down next to him, and Dallon couldn’t help but stare. It felt pretty good knowing he couldn’t get in trouble for it anymore. 

“I didn’t actually want to go to my house tonight, by the way. Just didn’t know what else to do,” Spencer confessed, cocking his head to look at Dallon. “You know that, right?”

“Mhm.” A beat of silence. Dallon wasn’t even sure he was awake anymore, all he knew was the over abundance of happiness that filled him up wasn’t settling down. 

“Whatcha dreaming about?” Spencer asked, nuzzling his face next to Dallon’s.

“Dreaming about those dreamy eyes…” by the time he finished the sentence, he was asleep.


End file.
